


I Love You, I Love You - It's Disgusting !

by DaydreamAway



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven Boys, Trc - Fandom, the raven cycle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, a whole lot actually, eventually, kinda??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 03:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18930172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamAway/pseuds/DaydreamAway
Summary: In which Blue is a barista at a local coffee shop and can't seem to get rid of a boat-shoe-glasses-wearing boy who comes in every day, at exactly 3:26. Maybe, just maybe, she kinda likes it.Title taken, but not based on, the song by Broadside which I consider to generally be a bluesey song!





	I Love You, I Love You - It's Disgusting !

23rd June, 3:26

Blue didn't hate her job. Did she want to work here for the rest of her days? Of course not, but it was quaint, sweet. And they recycled their waste! That cosy little coffee shop that couldn't have the old, dusty smell scrubbed away no matter how hard you tried... Charming! That's what Maura had once called it, and it was for her, Maura, her Mother she was doing this. Well, no that wasn't quite right she was working for herself, to pay for the expenses of college she had been oh-so-adamant about paying for since she was a little girl. If there was one thing Blue Sargent was it was determined, and it was a trait she had yet to fault herself for. All the same, she didn't dislike working here, it was near impossible to really. The hours were flexible, her Boss blase and the people interesting. That was one thing she certifiably loved about it - the people watching, the fantasies she entertained herself with when witnessing two friends sat in a booth together. She liked to think that girl and her boyfriend were not, in fact, fighting about the latter's scandalous cheating and instead on the Bechdel Test. In her heart, she knew they were breaking up but in her head! In her head, everyone in this coffee shop led such interesting lives you could write novels about them. However, this self-story-telling could only last her so long as by 3:15 pm the income was dwindling to a poor effect. Sat in the little coffee shop was a lady in a pink coat, staring dazedly into space, a college student rapidly pushing the keys of their laptop in frustration and two girls raving about their favourite band's new album. What Blue was experiencing was textbook boredom, or as she likes to dub it someone-kill-me-now. Being alone with her thoughts could entertain her for hours as a child and even, at times, now as a young adult but a robust and dead coffee shop certainly didn't provide much scope for the imagination. Little did Blue Sargent know that when the clock struck 3:26 her cursed boredom would be relieved, for the next two months. That was the day she would meet a boy of average height, a boy who prided himself of the hideous combo of boat shoes and polo, a boy who didn't seem to have any filter the-"Hello!"

Jumping out of her skin the girl scrutinized the boy with the sunny welcome, with a glare. Taking a beat to slow her heart her eyes flickered from tousled hazelnut hair, introspective and burning eyes, to a clean-cut polo shirt with the infamous Lacrosse symbol. Oh, she couldn't help but think to herself, one of these guys. Now, Blue wouldn't say she was judgy...Okay, maybe she was, just a little but a dozen of these guys came in during spring break. Dozens! At the same time! And while it wasn't spring break she didn't need to see the too-expensive watch on the man (boy's?) wrist to clue her in. Eyeing the boy once more she braced her hands onto the counter expectantly. She didn't get why she was so thrown off by his sunny scholar smile. "Just black coffee," he informed her, hands going to fold behind his back, "to go."

A beat bounced between them as she turned to fix up his simple order.

"So, what's the name?"

"Hm?"

"Your name?"

"Oh, Richard - Oh, wait no. Everyone calls me Gansey. Richard Campbell Gansey III, to be exact. Richard is my Father, nice man... If a little in-his-head. When it comes down to it my name is Richard, I suppose that's what's on my birth certificate but Gansey seems to suit me better, doesn't it? I think so, and so do my friends."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the first time Blue Sargent met Richard Campbell Gansey III, or as she would write up his order the upcoming two months - Dick. Lifting a single thick brow at the babbling she resisted the urge to let her eyes roll into the back of her head before they were in her mouth. Only would someone richer than the day was long would feel the need to state such a title, and as tempted as she was to write Richard Campbell Gansey II just to irritate the stranger she came up with a much better idea as she lifted the sharpie to the styrofoam with a rebellious smile. Blue Sargent didn't get much of a chance to be rebellious outside of her rejection of 'normal' clothing, or recycling to a vicious extent because all her life she hadn't had much to rebel against. Maura Sargent was a free spirit, always had been and because of her encouragement for her daughter to follow in those footsteps, while always following her heart, Blue had never feared to go against the norm or standing up for whatever she wanted. Her Mother didn't teach her to be spiteful of the rich but it seemed to come naturally when they walked... Or rather strode wherever they went while flaunting accessories that would've taken others years to save up for. It felt wrong for there to be so many rich people in the world but if she were to go on a tirade about money going to the wrong people she would never hand the boy his order. And so with exaggerated sugary sweetness, she handed him the styrofoam cup, mimicking the elegance he no doubt saw in his everyday life. Hell, he was probably used to people serving him with a smile! Only faltering when he turned the cup around and looked back up at her Blue was prepared to defend herself haughtily. The last thing, the very last thing, she had been expecting was for him to crack a smile. "Thanks... Sargent."

Whipping her head down to the name badge, ambiguously only sporting her second name she stuttered briefly as he opened her mouth for a spontaneous comeback. Or, she would've had by the time she looked back up the boy was still here. Staring after him blanky it took the barista a moment or two to come back to her surroundings and observed that none of the other customers had been as paralysed by that exchange as they continued typing or thesis, and staring into their lover's eyes and cracking jokes with their friends. With a lingering distaste for the rich still present and on the verge of verbalising itself she looked down to see he had left five dollars on the counter, whereas only two were needed. Scrunching it up in her fist and slamming into the register her nose scrunched up in an act of protest. Going about the rest of her day it was commonplace and yet in the back of her mind, it was as if there was a hamster by the name of Richard Campbell Gansey III tirelessly running on his gold-plated wheel in an attempt to pique her irritation even further. When someone annoyed Blue Sargent she couldn't help but let it become a hyper fixation until she exhausted her anger and her only outlet for anger was painting, creating. Being a barista didn't leave much of an open end in terms of creativity. Even so, she trudged through the rest of the day giving customers smiles when feeling obligated, less than obligated when it was a couple who couldn't seem to understand personal space. It was with a sense of wistfulness that Blue watched the students pack up, especially the one who had a journal of notes on different eras of art, the page still open on Art Nouveau when she game to pay for her muffin and latte. The barista had never been shy, not since she was able to speak and yet something held her back from asking questions and making conversation on the topic of which she was so heavily invested. It was if there was a closet fear that upon finding out about the life she couldn't wait to run towards, an illusion would be shattered. The illusion that Blue had tried to shatter herself so many times upon her guidance counsellor's reminder that being an artist was not a career choice. But being an artist wasn't just a choice, is what she wanted to scream at her counsellor who, along with this reality check, seemed keen on checking up on how she was doing financially in terms of supporting this dream. Art wasn't just about painting, or creating something you're proud of it is about changing the world, letting other's see your side of life and not only critique it but open their eyes to it. Upon this long-winded rant taking place in silence, the short-haired girl didn't seem to notice that same girl with her notes, waiting for change. Fumbling for the till a string of curses left her mouth in embarrassment. Eventually finding the required amount, a hand moved to the back of her head to keep tufts from falling out of their clasps. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay." The stranger smiled, ginger curls pushed by the aid of wire-frames. "Did you draw that?"

Looking back down to where the girl was pointed at, her long elegant fingers splattered with paint, Blue started as she only just took note of the sketch she'd been working on in her notepad. In each corner of the page, she had started to draw each of the customers that came in near the end of the day, the dwindling of business giving her the time to give extra attention and detail to things that sometimes didn't receive it. However, these mini-portraits were missing a crucial thing - features. She had drawn the shape of their face, their hair and shoulders and yet no eyes, noses or lips were to be seen. Feeling sheepish over what must be a meagre attempt to someone actually studying it in a university the urge to curl in or herself was foreign and uncomfortable. Quieter than she had ever been, she parted chapped lips. "Yeah, I did."

"It's amazing!" She exclaimed, curls bouncing in agreement. "Can I hazard a guess at it's meaning? You don't know any of these people, right? So rather than an act of protecting their identity you miss out anything that could hint towards their personality, or how they're feeling because, honestly, the face isn't a reliable source! Oh, and you can't see through their soul, so no eyes, right? I... I'm babbling, aren't I?"

As if entranced via her babbling Blue Sargent took a moment to snap to reality before processing those words. It was with slick shame that the apples of her cheeks heated up. So this was the difference between a student like the red-head and her. Wheras Blue hadn't had any particular goal in these sketches, other than relieving her boredom this girl saw meaning and a message where there really was one. Art was subjective, everyone knew that and yet in this instance, it made her feel significantly smaller than she already was, standing at five foot three. The divide between her, a seventeen-year-old, and a University student seemed that much larger when taking into account every dissimilarity the two of them actually shared. Whereas the redhead stood tall, long legs taking up most of her body, Blue was stout and had arms more closely resembling a dinosaur (which she always, and still did, think was pretty cool.) It wasn't so much that she was jealous of the woman's height, or fair skin but more her knowledge the type you could only gain from having the resources, and the money to be taught it in such an intricate and deliberate manner. Even so, the small girl put up a front and gave the freckled on her best smile. "Exactly! What gave it away?"

"Well..." The woman started, looking down once more. Carefully her hand traced each face until she reached one significantly smaller, a hidden boy. Smile flickering onto her lips she looked back up at Blue knowingly. "You gave this guy eyes, you see. So it's only natural to assume that while everyone who came in here may not mean something to you, this boy clearly does. "

Following where her finger had been tracing Blue felt that hamster running in her brain break it's gold-plated wheel as she stared holes into the eyes of him, the rich prat from earlier. As if her gaze alone would erase what she had already drawn she vaguely heard the woman tell her to keep doing what she's doing and to never give up before making her exit leaving her alone with Richard Campbell Gansey III. Even after closing up the cafe, even after tucking in Maura's homemade dinner and even after she tucked herself into bed those eyes seemed to mock her. Little did Blue Sargent know that it wouldn't be the last time she bored holes into this man's eyes.


End file.
